


Owl Still Be With You

by tsukkisaur



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bad Puns, BokuAka Week, Fluff, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Rain, School Dances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 19:25:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14220108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukkisaur/pseuds/tsukkisaur
Summary: Bokuto was waiting for Akaashi at the school dance. The ravenette couldn't come, not when he had an inflammation in his foot from falling off the stairs while preparing, not when he needed crutches just to get up.Bokuto didn't know that.The last thing Akaashi expected was someone rapping at his window at nine in the evening amidst a brewing storm.





	Owl Still Be With You

**Author's Note:**

> HEY HEY HEY IT'S YA BOI KEI
> 
> this is a continuation from the bokuaka story from the Valentine's compilation, so if you still hadn't checked that out, i advise ya'll to do so because the excerpts i took might not provide enough detail and what not
> 
> happy bokuaka day, you beautiful potatoes 
> 
> please sit back and enjoy
> 
> \- kei
> 
> ps. i also recommend you go check out my beautiful wife miracchi's fic for today's event entitled, "Wrong Number" (her acc: AkaashisBitch) bc it was a really fun read so you should definitely go check that out if you feel like hurling your phone to scream
> 
> toodles

The rain bore down mercilessly on the water-forsaken ground, hammering on the pavements of Tokyo City, the skies a wooly grey with streaks of blinding white whenever the lightning came.

Under the umbrella of a street light was Bokuto, hands on his knees, panting as he drew his slickened hair back. The rain had washed his gel long ago. His legs were exhausted; the fatigue seeping into his bones made him feel as though he was dragging his muscles around.

Bokuto removed his necktie and shoved it into his drenched. His coat had long ago forgotten about keeping him dry, for the sky was a far worse enemy than he could have imagined, and even the long-sleeved shirt he had worn underneath it had stuck to his body like second skin. He eyed his loafers, figuring he could think about how his father was going to rip his guts open when he got home, if he ever planned to go home that night.

After a quick three-second break, Bokuto neglected the tightening of his chest and his wheezing, his attention completely robbed by the way up ahead. Around him were lights of homes, convenience stores, bars, and family restaurants, all serving as beacons for those who needed shelter from the rain. Bokuto must have caught an eyeful, but he didn't have time to show off or even try to explain what situation he was in.

All he could do was put one foot in front of the other, a looping process until he found the faded orange two-storey building in the outskirts of the district, and that was exactly what the captain had done.

He gripped the bouquet with his left hand. He already knew the flowers got ruined, he didn't care. He still had to give them to the person they belonged to. That was the plan.

 _We got this!_ he chided himself, before turning a left at the intersection and sped down the sidewalk, turning heads of passers-by towards him as he did so.

 

It all started with the dance.

Bokuto knew he was good-looking. For tonight, though, he wanted to look even _bette_ r.

Fukurodani was holding a dance that year, and the captain wasn't missing it for the world. Now that he’d finally gotten himself the boyfriend he’s always wanted, he was heading for the ballroom, spending time with Akaashi while wearing formal wear, and eating snacks with him to his heart's delight! They'd even dance, if Akaashi felt like it. The ravenette always did have insecurity issues wherever he went, after all.

Bokuto always wanted to break those down for him.

Even as he fixed his necktie, and wore his father’s loafers with his old coat and slacks, his mind wandered towards the memory, February 14th, when the both of them had confessed to each other at four in the morning, locked outside Keiji’s apartment.

 

 _“It’s not your fault, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi began. “I don’t want to see you blaming yourself over things like—”_ __  
_“Then can you tell me why you’re running away?”_ __  
_The setter took a deep breath, his eyes closed._ __  
_“Bokuto-san,” he began, letting his legs fall towards the captain’s direction. Snapping his eyes open, he straightened his back, feeling his nervousness all throughout his quivering body as he twisted his position to face Bokuto completely. The latter looked confused for a second, but nonetheless, had followed his pose._ __  
_“Yes, Akaashi-san,” he answered, his enthusiasm seemingly seeping back into his veins._   
Akaashi smiled. “I like you.”

 

Bokuto knew it was going to be the _best_ night.

 

Akaashi-san, I love you. Happy Valentine’s. _  
_ _At the end of the letter was the captain’s signature right above his printed name._

 _  
_ _Bokuto got up and dusted himself off. He grabbed his bag by the loop carry, and swung it over his back, waving him a quick goodbye. “My work here’s done, I suppose,” he bid, bowing once. “I’m heading home. When you told me you like me… you meant it differently, didn’t you?” He scratched lightly at the back of his head once he straightened up, an uneasy smile pulling at his lips. “I’m… not sure if we can carry on as friends, after all. W-well, I’ll see you later.”_

 __  
_Akaashi watched him turn away, his figure disappearing slowly into the hallway._ _  
_ _Bokuto hadn’t gotten far._

 _  
_ _And that was because Akaashi had stumbled over just to get up, clutching the letter in one hand, the other wiping the tears he hadn’t noticed had been streaking down until then. “What are you?” he demanded between sobs. “A fourth grader?”_

 _  
_ _The captain froze in place._

 _  
_ _“What were you thinking when I told you I liked you?” Akaashi went on, his eyes glued to the ground. He wasn’t even sure if Bokuto had turned to look. His eyes had gone blurry moments back, either way. “Are you an idiot? I meant I liked you, that goddamn romantic admiration, for fuck’s sake!” Akaashi put his fist in front of his mouth to keep him from yelling. His knees buckled, and instantly the male dropped to the ground, bawling like his life had lost all meaning._

 _  
_ _“Akaashi…”_

 _  
_ _The next thing he had known Bokuto joined him on the floor, holding him by the shoulders in an attempt to shake him. Akaashi was in immense pain already, and he was having none of that. “Let me go…!” Akaashi demanded, squirming from the captain’s hold. He kicked, and struggled, and for once, he’d caught the saddest look he had ever seen in Bokuto’s eyes but he didn’t have enough time to do anything about it. He inched away from him, his chest heaving. “You’re… you’re an idiot, that’s what you are.”_

_  
_ _"I’m sorry I couldn’t face you properly.”_

_  
_ _“Idiot,” Akaashi murmured, burying his face in his hands. The letter had fallen off seconds back somewhere to his left. “Idiot, idiot…”_

 _  
_ Akaashi-san, I love you.

 _  
_ _“We both are,” Akaashi finally said, gulping down his saliva. He ran a hand through his hair as he pulled his legs close to his chest. “I should have grown the courage to tell you these. To think you would write to me… why couldn’t you tell me instead? From the moment you realized it…” he looked up to face him, “why?”_

 __  
_Bokuto dipped his head. Even from that position, Akaashi could see the small smile he intended to display but couldn’t, perhaps, from shame. “I planned to,” Bokuto admitted, his voice soft, but loud enough for Akaashi to hear. The captain, his arm quivering, reached for Akaashi’s hand, closing his fingers around it. Although the sudden outburst of emotions had frightened him, the setter didn’t try resisting. “Believe me when I say I have. It’s why I took you out for food… so we could talk. You looked better, but even then you tried refusing as I asked to take you to the station.”_ _  
_ _Bokuto ran a gentle thumb over Akaashi’s knuckles. “By then I was wondering why you were acting so cold. I figured… I figured I wasn’t doing enough—I wasn’t enough. I wanted to know what was wrong, ask what I could do to help… my uselessness and dependence scared me. I thought I wouldn’t be much of help if I were to talk. You’d make me turn away, I guessed, so I ran from it.”_

 _  
_ _“I thought I’d be able to address the problem in the letter,” he continued, “because there was no one else I could give the letter to. When Konoha told me I might just be in love with you… it took me a while to accept it. He told me it was fine to like someone, even if that someone was close to me, even if being honest about it might end things awkwardly.” Bokuto looked up to flash him with a smile. Was his nose red? “I’ve never really felt this way for anyone in the past. I was… confused. I’m sorry for—”_

 _  
_ _“That’s not my problem,” Akaashi chimed in coldly, withdrawing his hand with one quick motion. He rubbed his cheek with it, trying to warm the trails of dried tears the wind struck. “What I’m mad about is why you made light of my confession.” He sniffled, then sighed, drawing circles on his kneecap. “Do you know how anxious you’ve made me feel? Do you get why I kept my distance?”_

 _  
_ _Bokuto pouted. “Oi, oi… don’t just lump those on yourself. I felt those, too!”_

 _  
_ _Akaashi examined him with narrowed pupils. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re actually just a giant excuse of a preschooler. Have my eyes gone bad?”_

 _  
_ _“Rude!”_

 _  
_ _Akaashi let out a huff before supporting himself up to stand. His back fell against the door to his room, his arms crossed on his chest. “Don’t give me that,” he said, no louder than a whisper. Although he really had no right to tell him those either. He himself was guilty of what Bokuto’s felt. Exactly why, on the third time he had repeated the word “idiot,” he had gone and addressed it towards himself. It was stupid, dealing with things the way he did, only to find out he and Bokuto were running around in circles with each other. “I still feel pathetic. After everything I’ve been thinking about over and over… it feels weird. Nothing ever goes the way I expect it, at least… in this department. I keep getting surprised.”_

 _  
_ _“You make me weak,” he admitted, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. The only thing that’s ever made you cry is him and him alone. “Bokuto-san… you’re the team’s morale foundation, but you always make me vulnerable. My weak spot’s… probably you. People say love varies from one perspective to another. Now that I’ve thought of it properly, I think that’s how it is.”_

 _  
_ _“Sorry,” Bokuto mumbled. “Didn’t know.”_

 _  
_ _“I’m not done. You might have always made me cry—”_

 _  
_ _He clutched his chest and threw himself backwards. “You don’t have to reword it that way.”_

 _  
_ _“—but then again, you still make me happier than anyone else.”_

 _  
_ _“Eh? Seriously?”_

 _  
_ _Akaashi turned away. “Mm.”_

 _  
_ _Bokuto leapt to his feet, wedging his hands into his jeans. He approached Akaashi, and without asking to, the setter had returned his attention back to him. They scanned each other for a good two seconds, and before Akaashi could look away due to his burning skin, Bokuto decided to break the silence. “So,” he began, resting his forehead against the setter’s, “do you want to try dating?”_

 _  
_ _The ravenette pushed him back once. “Not a chance,” he replied bitterly, running his eyes up and down Bokuto, “you preschooler.”_

 _  
_ _“I thought you liked me back. Don’t people who like each other usually date?”_

 _  
_ _“We’re both male,” Akaashi answered. “It’s different. Give it some thought.”_

 _  
_ _“I don’t think so.”_

 _  
_ _“I think so.”_

 _  
_ _Bokuto took another step forward, his hands on Akaashi’s shoulders. “Tell me how different they are, then,” he suggested. “Better yet, tell me how much better it would be if I had a girlfriend instead of an Akaashi Keiji.”_

 _  
_ _Akaashi sighed, jerking Bokuto’s hands off of him. His heart was racing, but he refused to accept it—love was an emotional rollercoaster ride he didn’t feel like experiencing anymore. Everything he had to say was out, even the most embarrassing ones, and where every space his love should have been, his mild irritation began to seep in. “You need someone flashier, someone who would suit you. You need someone who would care about you when you’re sick without being worried about anyone else—”_

 _  
_ _“Now you’re just being modest, describing yourself.”_

 _  
_ _“Don’t toy with my feelings, Bokuto-san. I’ve had enough. Please.”_

 _  
_ _“But I’m sure you’d do that,” Bokuto said, “because I know you. You could do so many things for me, and you wouldn’t realize how much I appreciate them.”_

 _  
_ _Akaashi groaned. “That’s not the issue.”_

 _  
_ _“Then what is?”_

 _  
_ _Silence. A horrid type of silence that suffocated Akaashi. He sighed, dipping his head low. “I’m scared of falling in love,” he confessed, scratching his ear. “I’m scared of being inside someone’s mind. I don’t want to go out with you, providing you with a fear of being judged of an eyeful. I don’t want that. Not at all.”_

 _  
_ _“And if I told you I could conquer those and help you in the process?”_

 _  
_ _Akaashi looked at him in the eye, biting his lower lip to keep it from trembling. Bokuto was close, too close, and the younger male could smell the light vanilla scent that emanated from his clothes. His eyes drifted towards the side. “W-well, I wouldn’t mind but—”_

 _  
_ _“All I needed to know.” Bokuto pressed his lips against his. Akaashi had been caught off guard, startled, he even jolted in place. At first, the two had only been fighting for dominance, with one of them clearly unaware of what was to come, but a second or two passed, and Akaashi’s shoulders sagged when he’s taught himself to relax._

 _  
_ _Three seconds felt so long in a kiss._

 _  
_ _The moment Bokuto pulled away, the two had been fighting for air. Without even giving Akaashi time to reflect on what he’s done, Bokuto threw his arms around him, and breathed into his ear, “Go out with me. If you have too many fears… no, it doesn’t matter. We’re going through them together, won’t we? Your anxiety is just making you see images out of proportion. The reality shouldn’t be that bad.”_

 _  
_ _“Bokuto-san, I’m not dying on a hunch.” Akaashi wasn’t the best at hugs, but he tried anyway, locking Bokuto against his torso by lacing his fingers together around his waist. “The reality_ shouldn’t _be that bad.”_

 _  
_ _“Can I take that as a yes instead?”_

 _  
_ Akaashi huffed. “Basic information. People usually date…” Akaashi took a deep inhale, tightening his grip on Bokuto before continuing, “people usually date when they like each other.”

 

Akaashi knew it wasn't the _best_ night.

With an inflammation in his left foot, he couldn't walk around without his crutches. How annoying it was to be preparing for the school dance before falling off the stairs. He hadn't even gotten a chance to try on the coat he had rented out.

That wasn't his biggest issue.

His real problem was the fact that the dance had started an hour back, and Bokuto still hadn't responded to his messages, wouldn't even pick up his calls. Akaashi guessed he was having fun, which was alright. It was good. Bokuto could forget him for a whole night to drink and eat with his classmates and teammates, he didn't really mind for as long as he didn't hurt himself.

 _Like how you didn't see the stairwell being right next to you_ , he scolded himself, sinking down onto the cushions of his sofa.

Akaashi’s real concern was Bokuto. What if he wasn't paying attention to his phone, but instead, is actually ignoring him on purpose because he couldn't make it to the dance? Akaashi knew how special it was to the captain; most of their talks since the beginning of March were all about it, and Bokuto would never stop talking as soon as he got started. Bokuto's eyes would light up, his hands gesturing like a restless need to portray the things he'd wanted to see with his fingers, and Akaashi would listen carefully.

He just had to fall down the stairs.

It was eight in the evening when the rain began to pour. It started off as calm, a comforting kind of rain Akaashi admired from the eastern facing windows, then gradually began a brewing storm, gusts whipping against his doors and glass panes like howling wolves in the night. The more Akaashi thought about it, the more dampened his mood got.

What if Bokuto waited for him all night? Was texting him what happened not good enough after all? Akaashi desperately eyed the doorway to the hall that would lead him to the exit. If he was to whimsically decide to go out in that weather condition (with crutches, if Akaashi had to add), Bokuto would probably get mad at him. Akaashi didn't want that, so instead did he lay in the sofa, reading a book he randomly pulled out from his shelf, restless.

 _Please just check your phone_ , Akaashi thought when he broke his gaze from the book to passively glance at the coffee table where a silent device had sat.

There were still no replies.

Akaashi choked over his own tears.

_I ruined his night, didn't I?_

 

_“Oi, oi, Bokuto, you're alone?”_

_The captain lowered his drink and turned to the speaker. He didn't need to guess; the voice was too familiar to be forgotten. “Sensei,” he greeted, nodding at his coach once before studying his clothes. Although he hadn't done much with his hair, Yamiji-sensei had gone with a brown and green checkered coat with a red tie at the collar, paired with brown jeans and shined shoes Bokuto had never seen him wear before. The captain grinned at this; his coach couldn't have looked more like a professor in his life. “And here I am, thinking I’d be seeing you in a track suit! Coach, you're looking great!”_

_“Pipe down, child,” Yamiji hushed, throwing his head back, lifting his drink to his lips. Even with his tone, Bokuto noted the creases at the corners of his eyes because of a smile that dared showcase his teeth to the captain._

_The coach finished off the glass. By the time he dipped his head back into position, he was gasping for air. “That was good,” he commented, eyeing the empty plastic cup. “What does the student council put in here, anyway?”_

_“Probably drugs,” muttered Bokuto._

_“What was that?”_

_Bokuto’s eyes flickered to the other side of the ballroom. “Nothing.”_

_“It's kind of rare to see you alone,” he commented, gesturing towards him with a jerk of his pinky. The coach leaned against the table behind them and continued, “Usually, you'd be yelling about and spending time with God knew who. There are lots of girls tonight, too. Why don't you dance?”_

_Bokuto seized the moment to scan the ballroom. There was nothing special he could feast his eyes on, but the movement of twirling around the center_ did _catch his attention. He watched couples, dancing in circles, waltzing, completely under the control of the music that boomed from the speakers._

_Bokuto would have thought the dresses looked mesmerizing, reminding him of butterfly wings with their iridescence, whenever the males would rest their hands on their hips and lift their partners up into the air, spinning them once over before continuing their little performance back on the floor together. Bokuto wanted to try that._

_Akaashi wasn't at the venue, though. He didn't know why. Something probably came up._

_The captain_ did _get asked, however, for a dance multiple times by different fans of the volleyball club. As much as Bokuto wanted to treat them well, he couldn't. He would eye the ballroom, and feel a pang of jealousy strike his heart. Everyone came in pairs, except him. Even if he didn't know a single thing about dancing, even if a dozen other girls had asked to dance with him, he’d always want one person to join hands with._

_“Akaashi isn't here, either.”_

_Bokuto chuckled. “Damn, Coach, you’ve sure been walking around…!”_

_“You're waiting for him, aren't you?” Yamiji queried, propping up his glasses. The captain studied him with wide eyes, astounded at how perceptive the man next to him was. For a second there, he caught a playful little glint in the teacher's eyes, and it made the captain swallow down his own saliva, leaving his tongue to feel more sandy than ever. “Did you ask him to the dance, Bokuto-kun?”_

_Bokuto’s breath hitched in his throat._ Was I that obvious? _“W-well, yeah… I did.” He scratched lightly at the back of his head. “Erm, is it weird?”_

_“What's weird?”_

_“Me,” Bokuto began, his voice not as loud as it had been, “asking him out.”_

_Yamiji widened his eyes. “You and Akaashi are seeing each other?”_

_The third-year could feel the heat clamber up from his neck to his cheeks, up to the tips of his ears. Caught up in a mild panic, the captain wolfed down the drink nervously, unable to maintain eye contact with the coach._ Fuck, _Bokuto cursed,_ Keiji would kill me!

_“You shouldn't be that surprised, really,” Yamiji frowned at him. “Both of you were being pretty obvious. Especially you. Akaashi made his efforts to veil his pining. You… I’m not even sure if you wanted to hide. Now that I’ve known you were trying, I’d say you're pretty stupid, Bokuto.”_

_Bokuto clutched his chest. “You don't… you don't have to say it that way, Sensei…”_

_“But I’m a bit surprised about Akaashi. Hadn't he noticed Konoha-san and Wataru-san betting 500 yen on whether you two would get together or not?”_

_“They did_ what?”

_Yamiji moved his hand in a waving gesture. “Ah, forget that.”_

_The music of a symphony Bokuto couldn't name began playing in the gap of the silence when neither of them had talked._ 500 yen _, Bokuto pondered._ Konoha already knew about how I liked Keiji. That was cheating!

_“But you know, Bokuto-kun,” Yamiji added on, his arms folded over his chest. “If you're not interested in this dance, you could always just go to whatever would make your night.” His lips strecthed into a grin. “Having fun should be one of your priorities. Having fun with a particular someone is something else… something, well, better. Lighter to the feeling. Try it. Your chest might just feel better once you see him.”_

_He clapped him twice on the shoulder._

_“Yamiji-sensei… have you always been this kind?” Bokuto asked with a warbled voice, wiping tears that weren't even there. “I’m touched…!”_

_The captain's words only earned him a tick to his forehead. “Go before I change my mind and ban you from leaving,” he retorted with a huff._

_“You can't do that.”_

_“I’m a teacher, Bokuto-kun.”_

 

Akaashi hadn't realized he had dozed off until someone had been rapping at the front door. His book was on the floor, looking more betrayed than abandoned. “My bad,” he apologized, his voice no louder than a whisper, “I’ll finish you later before I head to bed.”

The knocking still hadn't stopped. It made Akaashi wonder if there was a purge outside, making his visitor terrified and desperate to find shelter. “I’m coming!” he shouted at the exit, before grabbing his crutches and resting his armpits on them for support.

Little steps. Those were the only things he could accomplish. With handles digging into his skin as he weighed on them, Akaashi might as well have his arms cut off. Using crutches was more painful than it looked, Akaashi remembered to take a mental note of that.

The time he opened the door, disappointment immediately became an understatement. _Who the fuck would be pranking people with door knocks in this day and age?_ Akaashi’s blood boiled, and with what little strength he had left, he slammed the door shut.

The knocking continued.

“The fuck do you want?” Akaashi growled, swinging the door open and scanned the outside. The hall was empty.

 _I’m going crazy_.

Someone was still rapping on somewhere, but it wasn't his door, given that it was already open. Akaashi made a wild guess, and only saw it as the most pathetic thought he’s had; immediately did he close the door and as fast he could on crutches, paced towards the kitchen, where, lo and behold, on his window sill right behind the sink was Bokuto Koutarou, whose voice had been drowned out by the wind’s howling.

Akaashi dropped both crutches and stumbled in surprise. Forgetting his support, he pulled himself up with the table, neglecting the white hot pain that seared into his body when he used his left foot to step forward. Akaashi’s breath hitched in his throat, clicking his tongue as he hopped towards the chair, holding onto the backrest.

One hop.

Two hops.

His hands were rested on the sink. He flexed his right arm, and with what energy that wasn't drained out of him, he reached for the window lock and opened the panes for his boyfriend.

The gusts of wind greeted Akaashi, water droplets mercilessly being blown around, hitting his pale skin like bullets from the momentum. Had Bokuto not been there, he might have been blown back. The setter’s knees buckled, and he settled for the floor as Bokuto clambered into his apartment against the wind’s power.

It didn't take the captain long to enter, either. Akaashi counted a good five seconds before his first leg had popped into view, and the wind stopped with a click of his window lock.

Bokuto dropped down beside him, dripping wet, saluting with two of his fingers. “Yo,” he greeted between pants, accidentally kicking the table in front of them when he extended his legs.

Akaashi eyed him, bewildered. The rain had done a number on Bokuto. His hair, which he had probably spent hours on just trying to style, was hugging the sides of his face, his fringe glued to his forehead with water. His clothes were drenched, his like every other feature he had. Akaashi noted the raindrop that fell off his lips when he parted them to breathe. “Jesus Christ,” Akaashi began, “what were you thinking?”

“The hall was dry!” the captain reasoned, gesturing with both hands towards what he guessed was the direction of the doorway. “I didn't want to leave footsteps! I might even slip, you know. Plus, Tachibana would _kill_ me.”

“That's not the issue, you idiot!” Akaashi snarled. He inched closer with a wince he hoped Bokuto didn't notice, started to remove his coat and rolling it off his shoulders and arms. The captain didn't put up a fight. “Why did you decide to run in the rain like that? You'd get hypothermia, for Christ's sake.”

“I wanted to see you,” Bokuto said, grabbing Akaashi’s hands with his own. The ravenette was forced to lock eyes with him. “You didn't turn up at the venue, so I got a little worried.”

Akaashi was stunned for a moment. His heart ached at the sight of his boyfriend drenched from the rain, sitting beside him, forming a puddle that would get him wet as well. How long had he been running?

The setter couldn't help but feel angered at himself. How couldn't he see this coming? Why didn't he do anything about it, either?

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice soft as he dipped his head. He shook his head, withdrawing his hands, and straightened himself up, proceeding to take off his top, his fingers shaking violently as he attempted to unbutton it from his collar. “I’m sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I could have done something… anything.”

Bokuto must have noticed his fingers quivering when he leaned forward to cup Akaashi's chin with a cold hand, offering him a soft, small, but genuine smile that he guaranteed would warm him to the bones. “Hey, it’s okay,” he reassured, “I have a pretty strong body, after all! You don't have to feel guilty. Of course I’ll have to borrow your bathroom for a while and whatnot.” His eyes drifted elsewhere, and little did Akaashi know what on earth had caught his attention this time. “Oi, oi, what's wrong with your foot?”

Panic screamed into Akaashi’s system as he tried to cover his ankle in shame, only to no avail. Bokuto had already seen it. “Ah, well… I sort of… fell down the stairs while preparing for, um, the dance.” Akaashi dipped his head low in apology. “I’m sorry. I know you're probably mad. I should have taken more care of yourself.”

“Damn _right_ ,” Bokuto agreed with a huff before shifting his position to his knees. “You better take more care of yourself. Look at you! Why didn't you let me know?”

“I texted you,” Akaashi answered, looking up at him. “Why weren't you picking up my calls either?”

Bokuto’s lips twisted into an uneasy smirk. “A-ah, I sort of… left it at home.”

The two fell into relative silence. _We really are just a couple of idiots_ , Akaashi thought, heaving a sigh. “I’m sorry,” he apologized again, “for leaving you alone at the dance. I hope you had fun without me. Didn't think it’d be over so quickly.”

“It's not over yet,” Bokuto beamed. “It was boring though. You weren't there, so I really had no one to talk to.”

“You were really looking forward to it, you know. It makes me guilty.”

“I was looking forward to spending time with _you_ tonight,” Bokuto countered, cupping both of Akaashi’s cheeks. “So here I am! I guess you could say… _owl_ still come to see you, whatever happens.”

Akaashi eyed him closely. Bokuto was a loud captain, a large excuse of a preschooler who would never be in his right mind with a horrible train of puns. He loved him that way. A smile tugged at the ravenette's lips, as he opened his mouth to say, “Thanks for coming over.”

It took more talking, and as much as the setter found it embarrassing, he agreed to Bokuto’s whimsical wishes, carrying him to the sofa in a bridal carry (with Bokuto missing his shirt) included. _Warm_ , Akaashi thought, a side of his body pressed against his boyfriend's chiseled muscles. Bokuto was so close, he could smell the faint vanilla scent he had on. What had this guy been eating?

“I’m taking a shower,” Bokuto announced proudly like a toddler who declared his first bath alone. Akaashi managed to hold down his fit of giggles as he carefully propped up his injured foot on a cushion on the coffee table. “After that, I’m making us dinner!”

“Are you serious?” Akaashi asked. “Bokuto-san, let me just remind you, and I might be mistaken, you don't know _how_ to cook.”

“ _Koutarou_ ,” the captain corrected, a stress on each syllable. “We agreed on first name calling!”

Akaashi ignored him. “You can't even boil water. You nearly burned the kitchen once the last time you came over, and Lord knows if I’m ever going to let you march into that room and cook for me again.”

“J-just teach me then! I’m not letting you march into that room either just to make us food,” Bokuto huffed, grabbing the towel he must have stolen from Akaashi’s room and raced into the bathroom with a small tune he hummed to himself. Akaashi heard the door slide shut, and after a good half minute, the water began to run, Bokuto’s humming gradually turning into what would have been yelling if only the sound of the tap hadn't drowned his voice out.

The setter chuckled to himself before he hung his head back on the sofa’s rest. He was lucky enough to have this man as a lover. Akaashi wouldn't even ask for anything else.

Akaashi eyed the ruined bouquet of flowers next to his legs on the table. His eyes flickered towards the door to check whether it was all a prank or not, before he arced forward and closed his fingers around the base.

The pink paper was already soggy when Bokuto brought it over. It was ruined, leaving nothing but the ghostly marks of what looked like cracks and crumples made when it was still dry. The left curve had a tear, while opposite it, the edge had already been ripped off by what Akaashi guessed was air resistance.

The flowers weren't looking any better either.

Akaashi guessed they were chrysanthemum, but by then the buds were sized down since the first few layers of petals had already fallen off. _Trust me_ , the flowers seemed to scream, even in their ruined state. Akaashi could smell no fragrance, and he blamed the rain for washing it all away, but his eyes traced every nook and cranny, every little intricate detail of what was left.

 _Trust me_ , the flowers recurred, a high-pitched choir of weakened voices in Akaashi’s head. _Trust me_ , they yearned to say.

He was broken from his thoughts when he heard Bokuto’s voice descend back into humming, and it was a loud kind of wordless singing as his footsteps grew all the more heavy. Quickly did Akaashi put his gift down to lace his fingers together and place them right above his abdomen.

When his boyfriend popped into view, Akaashi’s jaw slackened. Bokuto stood by the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist, providing Akaashi more than just an eyeful he was grateful for. While the third-year busied himself with vigorously ruffling his hair, Akaashi had taken in what he could.

His muscles were _chiseled,_ curved and angled to perfection, designed for the sports enthusiast. With Bokuto’s body, _beefy_ could be an understatement. God knew what kind of face Akaashi made as he studied him up and down, let alone following the V-line that led inside the towel wrap.

“I just realized one thing,” Bokuto started, making his way inside the living room towards Akaashi from the front.

The younger male could make out wet footsteps he made on his wooden floorboards. Akaashi knitted his brows together, doing his very _best_ to maintain eye contact. “Get some clothes on first, at least,” he chided him, waving a hand at the male dismissively.

“What am I gonna do about underwear?”

Silence.

Bokuto decided to break it with a smirk and a smug expression as he arched his back to come in face to face with Akaashi. With a mere five inches away from bumping their noses together, he continued, “Or… should we do something about _your_ briefs instead?”

“I-Idiot,” Akaashi pushed him playfully, before flicking him once on the forehead. “I washed one of your boxers the last time you were here.” Even so, that hadn't stopped him from sporting a counterfeit smile. “Go check my drawers.”

Bokuto’s lips downturned into a pout. “We can't do it tonight?”

“Get changed, Bokuto-san.”

“Akaashi…”

“Excuse my memory,” he chimed in, “but who was it that told me we were on first name basis?”

Bokuto threw himself next to Akaashi with a heave of his chest, and that had been rather visible with the man naked next to him if not for his towel. “You still haven't even called me by _my_ name,” he complained, crossing his arms over his chest.

Akaashi leaned towards him, resting his head on his shoulder. Bokuto smelled like his body wash, and his shampoo. He would have peppered him with kisses already if it weren't for his foot. “My bad,” he whispered, and with minimal movement, he twisted his torso to face him and nuzzled his head in his bare neck, breathing, “ _Koutarou._ ”

When Bokuto hadn't replied, Akaashi added on, “Geez, you smell good…”

Bokuto cleared his voice as if he had snapped back into reality from a quick trance. “Oi, oi, Keiji, don't get carried away.”

“I know!” the ravenette snapped before withdrawing his torso and gesturing to his leg. “If it weren't for my fucking foot… God, I ruined enough things for one night.”

“Hold it _right_ there,” Bokuto interrupted the other’s monologue by holding him by the jaw to force him into eye contact. “You ruined _nothing_ , you hear? Absolutely nothing. This will be one of the best nights in history for the both of us; it just hasn't started yet! Alright?”

When Akaashi let his guard down, Bokuto must have noticed his eyes soften and took it as an opportunity to close the gap between them. It took Akaashi a while to register what had come for him, and once he had, he let his hands rest on his bare chest, taking consolation in the warmth he provided for him. He could hear his heart beating from the shackles of his ribcage. Akaashi figured his own rhythm was no far in difference.

Bokuto was, in all ways, an expert in making his heart come to life. Without him, it would simply stop.

He carefully pulled his legs back down onto the floor without inflicting a sting upon himself, without having to break the kiss. Akaashi’s hands snaked up to Bokuto’s neck, his fingers linked against his nape as he leaned back, allowing the other to clamber over him, his knees then rested on either of his sides.

For a moment, his lips parted, and Bokuto had come in taking it as an opportunity to explore his mouth as if Akaashi beckoned him to do so. The setter would have named it an accident, but with moan after moan, and hum after hum, he’d just gone with the flow, calling it more of an invitation for his boyfriend to not miss a single inch of what he had.

The two withdrew gasping with a desperate need for air, connected by a single thinning streak that broke when Bokuto stood, towering over his boyfriend with a grin. Akaashi slumped against the backrest, panting, looking up at Bokuto with his cheeks dusted a pink tint. “You’ve been doing your research,” Akaashi commented, straightening as soon as the older male stepped back, pivoting to avoid ramming into the table.

“So have you,” Bokuto replied.

“This isn't happening again.”

“Eh?” the senior snapped, clutching his chest in emotional pain. “I’m no good after all?”

Akaashi traced his lips with a finger. “I’m not making out with someone who smells like a concoction of Gatorade and chicken guts.” His lips pulled into a smirk as Bokuto proceeded to smell his breath off his palm. “I’m teasing. Now hurry up and get changed. We’re still having dinner tonight. You're cooking.”


End file.
